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Havah Jeth
Background Havah grew up as one of seven children, son of Kir, a scientist who works on the main board of the Arkanian Dominion. As this took most of their father’s time they were left to their mother, when she was available, and more often than not to servants to be raised. Some of the servants were of course qualified bodyguards and pilots in case they had to be moved suddenly, and from these he learned many techniques on how to fight and pilot at a young age as they would often use these lessons and training sessions as a way to keep the children busy and out of trouble. As a result, Havah became an adept pilot and fighter at a young age, and as he grew older his skills, with the continued and varied tutelage of the guards and servants, improved. Although he was more of one to break then fix items he had had to learn a good bit about repairing items as even though his parents didn’t mind replacing things, although his caretakers whose wages were docked until the items were fixed or replaced certainly did. When he came of age of decision it was plane to everyone that the first male born to Kir was not to be a scientist, but instead a fighting instrument, and so he was enlisted into the Arkanian Black Guard. It was there that he increased his talents to a polished sheen, but the pay and job was terrible if one was not idealistically driven by the missions and goals of the group. So when the option became available at twenty five to leave honorably he did, and took what inheritance and wages he had saved to upgrade his ship and droid, and headed out to find new employ. Not too long later he met the leader of The Mercs, Captain Rick Taller. Although it took a bit of persuasion and a demonstration of his abilities, and reassurances that he wasn’t an undercover agent. The Captain eventually agreed to let him join The Mercs, and he has served loyally ever since. While the constantly shifting ranks and the never-ending proximity to death is familiar and of a hue that one cannot endure forever, he doubts he could ever give up the lifestyle until it either forces him free of it, or it takes it completely. But at least in this field the pay is better and one isn’t bound by anything more than honor and kinship. Or so he thought, soon the filtering of new leaders, added dead, and deserters left Havah somehow inexplicably at the top of the roster. Needless to say he did not handle it well and the bottle looked more attractive than usual as the dead added up, deserters left, and he. . .despite being the leader now didn’t die. Whatever motion of the forces of life that made his life what it was either were personally hating him or simply desired an outlet for more masochistic tendencies. A feeling that grew as missions continued, he lived, he drank, and lived. Others didn’t drink and died, if he was one to quiet for no good reason that was the most tempting. The Jod hired them, revealed they had payed through others for most of the more dangerous missions that got others killed and soon Taller had the Mercs working for them. Whatever the deal was he hoped it was enough money to allow him to either never be sober or get drunk and then frozen for a few decades. Maybe the machine would malfunction. Sent alone on a mission with the Jod after he learned the Empire had his sister, who blamed him for her failed security, he helped them retake a passage-way station that had a rogue AI she had developed and a few droids he wished had changed their minds about coming with him. Still life went on, he threatened the twerp that met the returning shuttle that bore the marks of intelligence. . .well actually a severe lack. Got interrupted, let off some steam with a non-fatal duel with a guy that offered his head if it would make him feel better, and then got stunned and tossed in a brig. Without alcohol, his flute, nor a knife to end the suffering of forced detox. Well at least he wasn’t drying out because he quit, now if only the memories would stop. Still the battles came and he was forced to work alongside and then under the twerp Taller had elevated. If he wasn’t his boss now and had a severe mental gap, he would be tempted to kill the man out of principle. As things stand he instead has kept his distance, and silence as he worked with the new hires, Mando’a. A terrible situation, but at least they are professionals. Professional History Upon turning fifteen he joined the military with his father’s connections he was able to go through intensive training for next three years as a pilot and Elite Squad combat training. Ten years with the Arkanian Black Guard Elite Squads and eight years of service with The Mercs, in both fighter squadrons and covert ops stations. Traumatic Experiences Havah’s second to last mission was to eliminate a traitorous cell to the Arkanian Dominion, only slightly out of the ordinary from their regular pirate and outlaw mission profiles. The mission went without a hitch as he flew air support until the fleet was able to block off the main escape route. Once that was established he landed and joined his team in breaching the final layers of defenses to the bunker, but what surprised him most was when they finally reached their targets, him using his Stokhli Spray Stick to trip up the fleeing individuals before a shot was put in the back of the skull. When one body was rolled over for identification to his surprise, and to his horror, he recognized the man that he had brought down as his little brother. Although he has lost many good friends and comrades over the years, and while he never shows it, each of them weighs heavily on him, each having left their own scar in his mind and heart. He feels particularly guilty about his brother’s death, a death brought by his own hands, which still haunts him to this day. Guilt over his sisters abduction and wounding by the Empire watched via a recording as she cried out his guilt for it also haunts him. Category:Player Characters (PC) Category:Other